


control

by deepseasushi, orphan_account



Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepseasushi/pseuds/deepseasushi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey.” Alan’s eyes were half-lidded, pupils dark and his chest heaving. “Have you thought about my offer?”</p>
<p>Makoto’s mouth twisted. “Being your <i>consort</i>?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	control

**Author's Note:**

> this fic could never have been finished without the help of deepseasushi!!! who wrote.... well, all the porn bits basically.  
> how is this the first makoto/alan fic on ao3 tho honestly just look at them
> 
> this was originally written, and takes place, after episode 9.

\--

Ever since he'd come back to the human world, Makoto had had a hard time falling asleep. There was always too much to do, too much to think about, and though Kanon often voiced her concern he usually didn’t so much sleep as pass out for a few hours before the crack of dawn. The lack of sleep weighed on his mind, hung sluggish in his veins when he fought, and the few times he managed to sleep early were struck through with nightmares.

Despite all of that, he hated the fact that he'd just had one of the best naps he'd ever taken.

With Alan.

The Ganma was sprawled on top of his chest, eyes closed. He didn't usually sleep with Alan--both in the literal and euphemistic sense--but part of him wanted to admit that lying with another person like this was... nice. Comforting, even. Then the logical side of his mind kicked in: it was probably just a lack of physical contact. His body simply remembered being hugged by his mother, or holding Kanon as she slept when they were both still in the Ganma world. Nothing more than that.

And then Alan made a _noise_ in his sleep and tried to bury his face in Makoto's neck and it was all he could do to hide the traitorous thoughts that flashed into his mind at that sudden movement.

Makoto pulled himself up, unceremoniously dumping Alan onto his lap. He leaned over to pick his scattered clothing off the floor, but a cold hand lazily tugged at his shoulder.

Alan was always cold. Not freezing, but his body temperature always felt like that of a person who'd just gotten out of a chilly pool.

"Well?" Alan's voice had a knowing, catlike smile to it. "Have I made it up to you yet?"

"I don't know." He wasn't sure where the words tumbled out from. "Better do it again, to be safe."

Alan laughed. He pulled Makoto to face him, his touch gentle and hovering as he traced the outline of the bruises Javelle had left on Makoto's chest. "Does it still hurt?"

"No thanks to your bodyguard."

"Don't worry about him. I won't keep him around for too long." Alan picked up one of Makoto's hands, pressing his cold lips to each knuckle, reverent, as though he were the commoner and Makoto the prince. He caught Makoto's eye and smiled. "I suppose he'd have a fit if he knew the kind of things I do with you."

He knew what Alan was about to do, but it still felt unexpected, the sudden wetness and damp heat on his fingers as Alan slid two of them into his mouth, then three, his fingers pressing against a slick tongue and smooth teeth. Makoto inhaled sharply, in spite of himself. It was always the look on Alan's face that got him, the way he seemed to enjoy all this, like Makoto was a particularly indulgent banquet or glass of fine wine.

It bothered him, so Makoto pulled his fingers from Alan’s lips, used his other hand to push the Ganma onto his bed, and began sawing two of his wet fingers in and out of the other man.

“That’s nice,” Alan tried to keep his voice casual, but there was a quiver to it that Makoto took a small, strange pride in. “You’re--you’re good at this...”

Makoto gave him a particularly hard thrust, making Alan’s back arch and forcing him to bite back his words, though not for long.

“Hey.” Alan’s eyes were half-lidded, pupils dark and his chest heaving. “Have you thought about my offer?”

“I really don’t have the time to help you.”

The faint sunlight streaming through the windows made Alan’s skin look translucent, his hair a black-and-yellow mess over his face. He was beautiful, even like this, draped across a messy bed that creaked when either of them moved, in the cheapest apartment for rent Makoto had been able to find, and the realization made him want to pick up his clothes and walk away.

“What about my other offer?”

His mouth twisted. “Being your _consort_?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”The bed groaned as they shifted, Alan somehow ending up in Makoto’s lap, legs on either side of his hips. Alan pressed his mouth against the beat of the pulse in the Rider’s neck, following the line of muscle that connected to the curve of his jaw. “I already pay for everything you own.”

“I paid you back.” Makoto couldn’t help but tip his head back at Alan’s touch. “The Edison eyecon.”

“You’d be under my protection.” Alan ignored his words, tracing his finger down Makoto’s back. “None of the other Ganma would even dare to look at you unless I let them. And... Kanon-chan would be safe at my place, too.”

Alan had made this proposition to him several times before, usually when they were both in some state of undress, and sometimes, just sometimes, the idea seemed almost tantalizing. He wasn’t sure what kind of relationship they had. It certainly didn’t feel like love, or even infatuation. But he didn’t totally hate the--the arrangement that they had, and sometimes he glared up at a Ganma that had kicked him to the ground and wondered what it might say if he told it he was related to royalty...

But then there was Kanon to consider.

Kanon, who spent her time in the Ganma world trying to remember the colour of the sky and the shade of their mother’s hair and the way their father told them stories, who missed things like fields of grass and thunder on a rainy day.

“She wouldn’t want that.” Makoto said firmly, and the bemused look in Alan’s eyes told him he’d been expecting that answer.

“But you would, right?” Alan grinned, cold fingers interlacing with Makoto’s, pulling both their hands up to chest level, before he was shoved back onto the bed. Makoto’s palms pressed hard against Alan’s, weight forcing down onto Alan’s hands on both sides of his head, caging him in the space between his arms. Makoto stared hard at Alan, face painted with no visible emotions, but his darkening pupils said everything he wouldn't.

“Fuck me.”

"Is that an order, your highness?"

Alan smirked. "If you want."

It took Makoto no time to bite down on Alan’s neck, teeth pressed hard against his abnormally slow-beating pulse. Untangling his fingers from Alan’s grip, Makoto pushed two of them back into Alan, who tensed with surprise but quickly relaxed.

“You like my fingers, don’t you?” It was phrased like a question, but it sounded like a statement, like Makoto was just listing out a fact about Alan. “I don’t get it.”

“Oh, you will, soon enough.” Alan mustered up enough concentration amongst the waves of pleasure, extending a palm to cup Makoto’s face. His body felt feverish against Alan's cold touch. "God, you're so beautiful..."

“Shut up.” Makoto ordered, slipping a third finger inside him.

Alan opened his mouth as if to protest, but Makoto's fingers brushed against _something_ and that made him gasp, loud and shaky. Fingers still lurking close by that spot, Makoto made small rubbing motions, watching impassively as Alan writhed and twisted under him. Alan’s breathing became ragged, uneven, his hands balled into fists, his knees arched high. Makoto didn’t notice all of that. His eyes were fixed onto Alan’s face, watching as the Ganma came undone under his touch.

Alan panted, breath hitching in his throat as Makoto’s fingers teased and rammed ruthlessly onto his sensitive spot. He moaned and begged for Makoto to be faster, harder, but the other man took his time, had the blonde begging and losing control beneath him.

He was in control of Alan, he realized, and hated how much he relished the feeling.

“Makoto---!”

His fingers sped up, ruthlessly eliciting erotic moans and enjoying Alan’s inability to form a complete sentence.

“M—Makoto—There, there, please--”

Alan lost his voice at the end of his sentence as a huge rush of pleasure rode through him. His thighs shivered, his toes curled, a rush of liquid squirting onto his stomach. Makoto’s fingers slowed down, but stayed buried inside Alan, making slow, lazy circles, his other hand reaching down and stroked Alan’s throbbing member slowly, unconsciously helping Alan in riding through his orgasm.

“Satisfied?” Makoto snapped, pulling his hand away and wiping his fingers clean on the sheets. He got up, ready to gather his clothes once again. Alan shifted in the sheets behind him, making the cloth rustle in his wake.

“Ma--ko--to--”

Makoto stopped.

“What?”

His tone was demanding, but he stopped, nevertheless.

“Look at me.”

Alan was lying on his side, facing Makoto, his hands sliding down to his cock, slowly rubbing at it and staining his hands with the clear, sticky liquid. He played with the liquid in his hands, closing and separating his fingers, watching it drip onto his chest. He opened his mouth and leaned forward, before his hand was stopped by Makoto.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A quiet question, a strong grip.

“I said ‘fuck me’, not ‘ _finger_ fuck me’.” Alan drawled, wriggling his wet fingers and not making eye contact with Makoto at all. Some of the remaining wet liquid dripped onto Makoto’s hand.

The grip on his wrist tightened. Makoto pushed his hand close to Alan's face.

“Lick it off. It’s dirty.”

Alan smirked. _Speak for yourself_ , his expression seemed to say, but he leaned forward and gave Makoto's outstretched palm a tentative lick. His lips grazed Makoto’s palm and his own, licking in between the curves and joints of their fingers. Despite himself, Makoto felt something stir in him when he saw Alan looking so fascinated. It was nothing but pure lust and want and need, his heart hammering and pounding hard, sending a rush throughout his body.

Whipping his hand away from the blonde, Makoto reached up to grab Alan’s messy hair. The Ganma immediately knew what Makoto wanted. He looked at the tip dripping with pre-cum, and looked up at Makoto, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Even the Specter needs some release, hmm?”

“Shut up.” Alan chuckled as Makoto tightened his grip on his hair. Adjusting his position, he knelt on the bed as he took Makoto’s erection into his mouth. Letting his mouth only hold on to the tip, his hands reached out and covered the rest of Makoto’s length, slowly massaging it with his palms. More and more liquid flowed into his mouth, but Alan didn't spit it out like he usually would, instead swallowing it gulp by gulp while sucking on the tip.

“You _thirsty_ bastard.” Makoto no longer had an iron hold on Alan’s hair. One palm cupped the side of Alan’s face instead, his index and middle finger playing with Alan’s feather earrings, tugging on them when Alan gave a particularly hard suck or a heavy squeeze. Alan would whine in protest due to the pain, but it only added to Makoto’s pleasure.

Makoto’s steady palm trembled slightly over time, and Alan decided to let go of his hands, choosing to grab onto Makoto’s thighs instead. He started swallowing Makoto’s erection entirely, the tip hitting the roof of Alan’s mouth.

Alan bobbed his head along Makoto’s cock, feeling triumphant when Makoto decided to discard all reason and calm, pressing both hands on both sides of the kneeling blonde’s head. Alan’s movements became slightly faster while Makoto thrust into Alan’s mouth even more viciously, and the both of them only stopped when Alan felt a huge amount of cum squirting into his mouth.

Swallowing it whole, Alan licked Makoto clean while he tried to recompose himself.

“So? How about it?” Alan asked, grabbing his blanket off the side of the bed, lazily covering his naked upper body with it. “My offer?”

“I’ll think about it.” Makoto liked the control he'd had earlier, but there was ultimately just too much about Alan that he didn't know about. He would rather extract what he could from Alan right now without giving too much commitment.

Grabbing his clothes for the third time, Makoto finally got to the bathroom without Alan interrupting him.

 

\--

When Makoto came out from the bathroom, there was a note next to Kanon’s eyecon.

_“I left you some pudding in the fridge --Alan”_

Makoto snorted.

“Onii-chan…” Kanon whispered, her sound tiny and quiet in the empty room.

“Hmm?”

“Everything’s… okay, right?”

Makoto smiled.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

\--


End file.
